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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789037">The Would-be Bookshop Thief</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous'>HipHopAnonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse of Magical Powers, Discipline, Gen, Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of Miracles, Magical manipulation, Non-Consensual Spanking, POV Second Person, Paddling, Punishment, Reader-Insert, Spanking, bottom reader, memory wiping, wooden spoon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:08:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24789037</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HipHopAnonymous/pseuds/HipHopAnonymous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You, dear reader, make an ill-advised attempt to steal a one-of-a-kind book from a little shop in Soho. Unfortunately, you’ve stumbled into some weird game the bookseller and his redheaded friend are clearly playing.</p><p>In which a demon discreetly tempts, an angel thwarts his wiles, and a human learns a sharp lesson about stealing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Would-be Bookshop Thief</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm really not sure if this is ridiculous or fun!? I also typically project onto Aziraphale in fics, so I don't usually make him the spanker - but maybe this reflects a bit of Michael Sheen thirst? Who knows!? I was mostly curious about this type of reader insert fic that seems much more popular off AO3! It's an experiment!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s becoming quite clear that this stuffy old English-Professor-Reject isn’t going to sell you the damn book. <em>Ridiculous</em>. This is a bookshop, isn’t it?</p><p>“Name your price.”</p><p>“Oh, no. I can’t sell you that, you see … it’s, um, damaged. A misprint. I’m really not supposed to … let me just —”</p><p>He somehow manages to pluck the book out of your hands, setting it aside on a nearby table. The flaws in the book only make the stupid thing more appealing, and surely the seller knows that. Is he just bluffing? Trying to drive up the price beyond reason?</p><p>He sets the book aside and steers you towards a stack of 1980’s water-spotted harlequin romance novels. <em>No thanks, buddy.</em></p><p>Luckily, another customer enters the shop and he swoops in on them, leaving you to pretend to leaf through some absurd looking bodice ripper while clandestinely eyeing the book you <em>actually </em>wanted to buy — before the seller started playing hard to get, that is.</p><p>Two more customers come through the door and the old man is beginning to look flustered. <em>He’s not paying any attention. Time to seize the moment.</em> You could have sworn you heard someone whisper that in your ear, and you turn quickly, hairs raising on the back of your neck. Of course no one is there. But the idea has merit. Yes, yes, of course it does.</p><p>You oh so casually stroll to the table where he set the book down, pretending to consider the romance novel in your hands. The seller is across the shop, back turned, explaining something or other to an older woman. </p><p>You’ve never stolen anything in your life, and your heart pounds. <em>Serves the old man right.</em> There’s that whisper-hiss again, but it’s surely your mind playing tricks on you. It’s easy to justify, though. You’ve offered the shop owner a ridiculous sum of money for the book. It isn't your fault that he refuses to sell it. You <em>need </em>it. You’re like a person possessed, eyes focused on the object of your desire, determined to have it no matter what.</p><p>Like a shrewd magician you trade the cheap paperback for your holy grail on the table, tucking the book discreetly into your jacket and forcing yourself to move casually towards the exit.</p><p>You risk a brief glance at the bookseller and thankfully, he’s still busy chatting with other customers. You can’t help but grin in triumph as you reach the door.</p><p>Suddenly, a slender, red-haired man in sunglasses is blocking your path.</p><p>“And where do you think you’re going?”</p><p>There’s something strange about this guy, wearing sunglasses indoors when it’s not even a sunny day. The way he’s grinning at you is kind of creepy, so you grin back in a placating manner meant for potentially crazy people.</p><p>“Just trying to leave, mate. Excuse me …”</p><p>“I don’t think so. Hey, Angel, did you sell a book to this customer?”</p><p>He’s talking to the bookseller. <em>Uh-oh.</em></p><p>“What? Oh, Heaven’s no, of course not!”</p><p>“I didn’t think so.” The sunglasses guy looks back at you, still grinning that predatory grin. “So what’s that you’ve got in your coat there?”</p><p><em>Shit, shit, shit! </em>He’s tall with a menacing presence, and he backs you away from the door, farther and farther from your chance at escape. He matches your movements so that there’s no way to manage getting around him for a mad dash out the door.</p><p>“Nothing!” you instinctively say, hugging your arms tightly around your middle as you step backwards. “I need to go, so please just — ahh!”</p><p>A jolt of … <em>something </em>shocks your body, more potent than static electricity and very strange. <em>What on Earth!? </em>It makes you jump and the book falls out of your jacket onto the floor with an incriminating thud.</p><p>“I think you’d better close up shop, Angel, so we can call the police on this shoplifter.”</p><p>You’re feeling faint now, blood rushing in your ears, tongue heavy and thick in your mouth, trying to stutter out lies and excuses that are clearly going ignored.</p><p>“I was just looking at it. I wasn’t going to … I just meant to … Er, you see … um ...”</p><p>The other customers file out the door, looking both disappointed the shop is closing and excited to have witnessed something as scandalous as a <em>crime </em>(even if it is a silly little one.) The white haired seller locks the door behind them.</p><p>“Please don’t call the police!” you finally say, deciding to go the repentant route. “I’m really sorry!”</p><p>Now both the seller and the redhead are blocking the door, so you can’t even try to make a run for it. You hastily pick the book up from the ground, give it a cursory brush, and then shove it into the bookseller’s hands.</p><p>“Here! I’m sorry! Really I am! I just … I just really wanted it, and you wouldn’t take my money! I’m sorry, okay? Please, please don’t call the police. I’ll leave and never come back. I promise!”</p><p>“Crowley, surely we don’t need to involve the local authorities.”</p><p><em>Yes! Thank you! </em>You nod stupidly at the seller, who doesn’t even spare you a glance.</p><p>“That’s true. You are an authority in your own right, aren’t you, Angel?”</p><p>“Yes, that’s technically correct, dear boy. What ought we to do about this then?”</p><p>“We? I already did my part, didn’t I? An expert temptation, if I do say so myself.” He isn’t looking at you either, but smiles toothily at the seller. The two of them clearly have something weird going on.</p><p>“Oh,” the bookseller scoffs. “You barely even had to try.”</p><p>“Whatever. Well, it’s obvious what <em>you</em> need to do now, isn’t it? Your lot’s all about discipline.”</p><p>“Oh, Crowley, I don’t know if that’s … entirely proper.”</p><p>“Why not? Guide the flock, right? Don’t spare the rod.”</p><p>“Well, it’s been quite a long time since I got my hands dirty with humans …”</p><p>The redhead shrugs. “Not like we can’t wipe their memories.” </p><p>“Oh, but … frivolous miracles and all that.”</p><p>“Don’t sweat it, Aziraphale. I’ll handle it. Make sure that the lesson remains while the er … precise application does not.”</p><p>Your wide eyes are darting back and forth between the two, and your relief is turning quickly into fear as it becomes clear that these two are a couple of Grade A weirdos. They’re spouting all this nonsense as though you aren’t even there. Maybe you’d have been better off with the police after all. You begin to back away, raising your hands in a defensive gesture.</p><p>They both finally turn to look at you, and you freeze. Not only are you outnumbered, but there’s an aura of frightening strength these two are giving off. You’re actually scared now.</p><p>“I suppose you’re right, Crowley. Dishonest little thieves must be punished!”</p><p><em>That’s it.</em> You turn and try to bolt, but the one called Crowley grabs you so tightly by the wrist that it’s impossible to wrench your arm free.</p><p>“No! Don’t touch me, you perverts! I’ll scream!”</p><p>“Oh, yes, I expect you might,” the other one - Azirpahale - says.</p><p>Aziraphale walks over to plop down on the disheveled sofa, and Crowley drags you, writhing in his grip, over. He gives you a little shove that tips you off balance, and Aziraphale takes your hand and easily pulls you facedown over his lap. <em>What in the bloody Hell?!</em></p><p>“No way! Not happening!” you snarl, immediately pushing to get up.</p><p>With far more strength than should be possible from the plump old bookseller, he holds you down with one firm hand on your back, and you find yourself completely pinned. No matter how much force and effort you give trying to push yourself up off his lap, you’re trapped. You suck in a quick, shocked breath when Aziraphale slips his fingers inside the back of your pants and easily tugs all modesty down to your knees, baring your naked bottom to these two strange men. Somehow, your trousers seemed to have already been unfastened, though you certainly don’t remember either of them touching the buttons and zip. <em>How was that even possible!?</em> </p><p>“No, no, NO!” you shout, squirming in the bookseller’s unbelievably strong grip.</p><p>“Seems this is long overdue,” Crowley says matter-of-factly. <em>Damn him to Hell!</em></p><p>“Quite.” </p><p>And then a tremendously sharp smack lands on your right buttock. This is followed by an equally stinging swat delivered to the left. The blows keep coming one after the other as Aziraphale keeps up a steady pace of hard hand-spanks to your helpless backside. The swats from his meaty hand <em>hurt</em>, and you are soon wiggling like mad as a fire is lit to your poor bottom! </p><p>The spanking is absolutely relentless, and no matter how much you squirm, threaten, yelp, or beg, Aziraphale doesn’t let up. This simply <em>cannot </em>be happening. There’s <em>no way </em>you’re actually getting a bare bottomed spanking over some random bookseller’s knee while his weird friend watches!</p><p>And a hand spanking should not hurt this badly! You can’t take it! You’re going to die! Your buttocks are surely going to burst into flames any moment. But then the blows suddenly, <em>blessedly </em>stop coming, and you lay there in relief, panting, face red and eyes wet with nearly shed tears as your bottom throbs hot.</p><p>“Stealing is very, very naughty, you know,” Aziraphale lectures as you lie red-bottomed across his lap. “Greed is a terrible sin from which you humans need to be dissuaded lest you risk your immortal souls. Not to worry, though. Fortunately, I find that penitence delivered sharply to the bare buttocks is quite effective. You will surely find repentance and return to the righteous path by the time we’ve finished.”</p><p><em>By the time …?</em> <em>Wasn’t it already over?</em></p><p>“Crowley, would you mind fetching the large wooden spoon from the kitchen, please?”</p><p>You hear Crowley snort out a chuckle as he walks away. Your brain quickly catches up and you realize what is about to happen. They <em>can’t</em> be serious!</p><p>“No, no, no!” you begin struggling anew, but find yourself just as pinned and helpless as before you were subjected to a humiliating and painful bare bottomed spanking. “Please! I’ve … I’ve learned my lesson! I swear! I don’t want more!”</p><p>“Oh, but you <em>need</em> it! Naughty little thieves must be punished,” Aziraphale counters, giving your red hot rump a couple brisk smacks with his hand. You stiffen and yelp, heart pounding in terror at the thought of a wooden spoon paddling atop your already blazing backside. “That was merely a warm-up, you see, to get your attention. I would be remiss if I spared the rod. Ah, there it is now. Thank you, Crowley!”</p><p>There is a mighty crack that echoes throughout the room half a moment before you feel the eruption of pain in your left buttock.  A rapid follow-up is delivered to your right, and though you begin to howl and buck your hips, Aziraphale refuses to let up. In desperation, you throw a hand back to protect your naked posterior, but Aziraphale easily catches your wrist and twists your arm behind your back, holding it firm. His strength is still downright astounding, but you lack the wherewithal to consider it much as he continues administering a sound paddling to your poor bottom with the back of what must be the biggest, hardest wooden spoon on Earth!</p><p>You screech, kick your legs, and beg off, but it gets you nothing but a volley of sharp swats to the backs of your thighs, lighting up the shockingly tender skin. Aziraphale just keeps spanking and spanking, and you fear he’ll never stop. Your world is reduced to stinging, burning, bruising agony, and you soon become nothing more than a kicking, wailing creature of repentance who would do anything, make any promises to stop the relentless spoon from cracking against your scalding backside.</p><p>There’s a brief pause and you hear Aziraphale speaking, “Let’s finish up with this nasty business now, all right?” You feel him shift, lifting his knee a little beneath your hips, raising your stinging bottom up high. “Thou (<em>Spank!</em>) Shalt (<em>Smack!</em>) Not (<em>Crack!</em>) Steal (<em>SPANK! SPLAT! THWACK!</em>)!” Those final swats are delivered with tremendous fervor right along your sit-spots, and you shriek in agony at the burning fire lit along that tender skin.</p><p>It’s over at last, and you sob in relief, face red and wet, nose full and snuffly. You offer no resistance even though you feel your trousers and underwear being slipped down over your shoes and completely off. There’s simply no fight left in you.</p><p>“There now,” Aziraphale says softly. “Have you learnt your lesson?” You nod frantically, terrified that he may begin wielding that nasty spoon again. “Very good, my child. Up you get.”</p><p>He guides you to your unsteady feet, and you can see your clothing has been folded and set neatly beside him on the sofa.</p><p>“No need to worry,” he says with a kind smile. “I’ll return them once you’ve finished.”</p><p><em>Oh no!</em> What could they possibly have in store for you next?</p><p>“Here,” Crowley shoves a feather duster into your hands which are itching to rub at your aching backside. “You can make up your attempted thievery by dusting the shelves.”</p><p>You look from the duster to your folded trousers to Crowley’s no-nonsense expression. Clearly, you aren’t getting your pants back anytime soon. It’s certainly not worth the risk of more spanking to disobey. </p><p>So you get to work dusting the many (very dusty!) bookshelves with your bare bottom on display: a shining red beacon of your naughtiness while you work diligently to atone. You find yourself acutely aware of the way your sore, naked buttocks jiggle while you move. It’s an unpleasant surprise each time you feel the cool air of the room between your cheeks whenever you bend over. The painful stretch of freshly paddled skin as you work is a cruel reminder of what happens to those who try to steal from this particular bookseller. You worry a bit that these crazy fellows may reopen the shop to customers, letting them gawk in wonder at your shame, but they don’t, content to keep this peculiar brand of humiliating discipline relatively private. <em>Thank Heaven</em>.</p><p>“Don’t think you think that’s enough?” you hear Aziraphale ask after a time, and you pause dusting, giving them both a wary look. “I’m not quite sure it’s completely ethical to play this game with humans like this.”</p><p>“Nahhhh, Angel, it’s fine. You see a wile, you thwart, right? Now our tally is even. Plus, it’s a bit thrilling, don’t you think?”</p><p>“Oh, well, perhaps!” Aziraphale tries unsuccessfully to hide his grin.</p><p>“You’re probably right, though. I think the lesson has been sufficiently imparted through a very potent smiting. Time to go, human ...” Crowley snaps his fingers and everything goes black.</p><p> </p><p>You’re standing in a bookshop, holding a book and feeling rather groggy. Did you have one too many at the pub before you came here? You give your fuzzy head a little shake to clear it and look at the book in your hands. <em>Oh that’s right!</em> You wanted to buy it, but that horrible — er, <em>kindly(?)</em> bookseller refused. You take a step forward and are immediately hit with a sore throbbing in your backside. <em>Ouch!</em> What on earth? Did you fall down and forget? <em>Strange</em>. This place feels very weird, and you have an urgent desire to get out and go home. You set the book down before walking stiffly towards the exit.</p><p>“Goodbye, now,” the bookseller says, smiling broadly at you, and you’re hit with a curious jolt of fear.</p><p>“Bye,” you mutter as you make your way quickly out of the shop, vowing never to return to that bizarre place ever again!</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p><a href="https://twitter.com/HipHopAnonymou9">Twitter</a><br/> </p><p>  <a href="https://hiphopanonymousao3.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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